


Semoka's Tumblr Drabbles

by Semoka



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, BAMF Greg Lestrade, Drabble Collection, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Multi, Prompt Fic, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 11:37:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12747531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semoka/pseuds/Semoka
Summary: All of the drabbles I've posted on Tumblr - though some are reserved just for you guys.





	1. "Quick! Give me your phone!" / mystrade

Lestrade is walking home from the Yard on the rare clear and dry night when one of Mycroft's cars pulls up next to him. He grins as Mycroft gets out of the car until he sees the panic on Mycroft's face.   
  
**"Quick! Give me your phone!"**  Mycroft demands, holding his hand out. The frantic look has Greg scrambling to do as he says, handing it over. 

Mycroft throws it away from them into the middle of the street, ignoring Greg's cry of shock. With a flick of his wrist, he dislodges the small gun from the handle of his umbrella, firing off a quick shot at the mobile. The moment the bullet makes contact, the entire cell explodes, setting off more than a few car alarms. It was a relatively small explosion, doing little more than creating a pothole in the street and giving a few scratches to the cars. The scattered pedestrians out late screamed in fear, taking off down the street.   
  
Comfortable in Greg's safety, Mycroft puts the curve of the handle back into the umbrella. Lestrade, on the other hand, is leaning against the building behind him in shock, staring slack-jawed at his now destroyed phone-turned-bomb.   
  
"That...was in my pocket." He states dumbly, trying to make sense of what just happened.

"Yes. Set to go off in," Mycroft pulls out his pocket watch, watching the second hand for a moment. "Approximately 4 minutes and 36 seconds from now." 

"So if you hadn't..." Greg shakes his head, sliding down the wall to sit on the ground.

"There's no use if wondering what would have happened if I hadn't, love. I did." Mycroft squats down in front of Lestrade, putting the umbrella on the ground next to him to rest both his hands on Greg's knees to ground him. "It was a close call, nothing more." He reassures, taking one of Greg's trembling hands in his and pressing a gentle kiss to the back.

Lestrade nods, squeezing his eyes shut and letting out a slow breath. He plays what happened over and over in his head, coming to a sudden realization with a gasp. He slaps Mycroft's arm, pointing at the umbrella next to his legs. "I knew that wasn't just an umbrella!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr @semoka to request fics!! I ship everything so you can't go wrong ;)
> 
> Comments keep me motivated!


	2. "This is all a fucking disaster." / mystrade

He stares at the two wine glasses on the table in front of him. One is untouched, the other has been refilled twice already. The movie's title screen music had been playing on repeat for over an hour now, but he couldn't find it in himself to care enough to shut it off. The dinner he'd left work early to cook had gone cold a while ago, sitting on the kitchen counter plated with care. 

It was supposed to be a happy 6-month anniversary.  Neither wanted anything especially large or extravagant, no fancy restaurants or seat to the opera. That could be saved for when they made it a year. No, a nice homecooked meal with wine and a movie and no phone calls to interrupt was a wonderful night.

Or, at least, it was meant to be. 

Instead, Lestrade was staring into his wine glass like it held all the answers, phone abandoned on the table next to him. He willed it to ring so he'd at least have an explanation as to why he was abandoned with too much food for one person and a bottle of wine he'd spent more than he had on for no reason. 

As the clock ticked to 22:30, two hours after Mycroft was supposed to be at Greg's door, the phone finally rings. When he answers with a rough "Lestrade." he's unsurprisingly met with Anthea's voice.

"Something has come up and Mr.Holmes regretfully has to reschedule your meeting for another ti-" She doesn't get to finish her sentence as Greg hangs up the phone and drops it to the floor unceremoniously. 

Tomorrow he'd be angry. Tomorrow when he wakes up and finds flowers or chocolates on his desk with a love note like he usually does after missed dates, he'd throw the gift in the garbage and be angry. 

Tonight, however, he had a bottle of wine that wasn't being drunk by anyone else and nothing better to do.

As he pops the cork out and drinks straight from the bottle this time, he sighs to the empty room.  **"This is all a fucking disaster."**  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr @semoka to request fics!! I ship everything so you can't go wrong ;)
> 
> Comments keep me motivated!


	3. Crime Scene Coming Out / anderlock

Sherlock strolled into the room like he owned the place, with John following behind as usual. While John paused by Greg, Sherlock got directly to work with analyzing the body.

Anderson couldn't take his eyes off the detective while he worked, also as usual, and Sherlock could practically feel the gaze on the back of his head.

"Anderson, if you insist on staring at me instead of being useful then I insist you leave the room and stare at someone else." Sherlock snapped suddenly, having had enough. The two men lock eyes for a moment before Anderson concedes.

"You're lucky I love you, you prat." The forensics leader threatens before turning to head for the door. He doesn't realize what he said until he sees Greg's stunned expression and John's wince. His eyes widen and he stammers as he tried to think of a cover-up.

Footsteps approach behind him, then there's a familiar hand on his chin. Sherlock gently turns his face to him, pausing to look him in the eyes. Everyone in the room waits with baited breath for the insults and humiliation. Sherlock doesn't deliver. Instead, there's a moment of understanding between the two. With slow and careful movements, Sherlock kisses Anderson tenderly like he's done so many times before. Their eyes flutter closed, their faces serene. They both hear Sally's gasp and Lestrade's quiet "Christ.." but ignore it in favor of each other.

When they pull apart only seconds later, Anderson's face is dusted with pink and it takes him a moment to open his eyes. Sherlock has that smile on, the one reserved for late night talks over dollar store tea in Anderson's kitchen and quiet mornings on the couch reading with their legs intertwined. Anderson can't help but match it with a smile of his own. The world faded away and it's only them.

At least until John clears his throat. At the sound, the world comes crashing back into them and they each take a step back from each other.

"Get out of my crime scene." Sherlock demands, but there's no venom or annoyance. The wink sent his way as he rolls his eyes would cancel that out anyway.

Anderson opens the door, quietly hoping no one outside saw that little show. All hope is lost when Sherlock casually smacks his arse on his way out, causing him to yelp and spin around to face the detective. He's met by a slamming door in his face.

"Sherlock!"


	4. Holding Hands / sherstrade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's too old to be getting knocked out and kidnapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally part of a 30 Day OTP Challenge that I never finished O O P S  
> At least I'm close to my goal of making a ficlet instead of a drabble (in which a drabble is <1000 words and a ficlet is at least 1500)

He's too old to be getting knocked out and kidnapped.

That was the first thought running through Greg's mind as he woke up, muffling a groan against his lips. After a moment waiting for the thumping pain in his skull to pass, he opened his eyes. Sherlock was in a chair to his left, John to his right, and Sally right behind him. They were still passed out cold, but besides that, they looked alright.

Bastard somehow managed to take them all down. The question was, which bastard? Well, Greg Lestrade may not be the great Sherlock Holmes, but he wasn't a DI for nothing.

There were in a fully furnished basement, red couches against one wall with two flat screens on the opposite wall. There were shelves filled with classic books though most were untouched. To Greg's right stood a stocked mini-bar, though most of the bottles looked half empty. Either frequent parties or long nights. Narrowing it down to either Nathan or Ar-

"It was Arthur, in case you were wondering." Sherlock's deep voice startled Lestrade out of his thoughts and had him whipping his head around to look at the other man.

"Yeah, figured that out, thanks," Greg responded, looking over every part of Sherlock he could see for injuries. "Any idea how to get out of this, Sunshine?"

"Only 27, currently." The detective muttered, eyes darting around the room for things only he could see.

"Only 27? You must be getting slow." Lestrade bit back. "Try sharing some with the class, yeah?"

"Now 32. I'm narrowing down the options to decide on the best to proceed with. By the time John and Donovan wake up, which will be in approximately-" Sherlock paused, throwing his head back to look at the unconscious figures. "Hmm, eleven minutes, I'll know which will get us out and our photographer in cuffs. You'll have to be patient, though you are rather used to waiting for me to solve all your problems, aren't you?"

"Well, if you're going to be like that then I'll stop coming to you for help." Greg arched his back in an attempt to stretch out his shoulders. "No need to be a git about it."

It was silent after that. To keep himself entertained, Greg counted the seconds. He got to 547 when Sally let out a groan, John following not too long after.

"The Cheif Super is going to have our heads about this," Sally called out, leaning her head back to touch Greg's in some form of comfort. "Any word on the escape plan, Sunshine?" Lestrade had reached 660 seconds exactly and peak boredom. "3 plans left. John, which do you think is best?"

"Two." John answered, despite not knowing any of Sherlock's thoughts. At Lestrade's nudge, he shrugged. "It's easier to pick a number then try to argue. It helps him work it down because he automatically assumes I'm wrong." He explained, with only a touch of bitterness.

"Well, you are. Two leaves a chance for Arthur to escape through a window. Donovan, one or three, you're even more stupid than John." Two matching cries of "Watch it!" came from those mentioned, with Greg sighing and closing his eyes. "How about three?" The DI offered, wanting to get out of this as quick as possible. 

"No, three is..." Sherlock paused, then broke out into a grin. "Three is perfect. Lestrade, reach into my coat pocket and grab my lighter." He ignored John's grumblings about how he shouldn't have a lighter when he was quitting cigarettes.

Lestrade reached as far as he could to the left and behind him, fingertips barely getting inside the pocket. That was all he needed as he then pulled the jacket closer until he could reach in and grab the old style zipper tucked away. "Got it." 

"Burn the ropes on your wrist. If you hold the lighter between your fingers and curl your hand, then start pulling as soon as the ropes catch, you'll be able to break them without getting burnt. Then, untie us." Sherlock spoke with certainty, and Greg followed what he said. He was out in a mere minute, standing once he could and going to Sherlock first to untie his wrist. Sally was next, then John. 

"Alright, freak, what now?" Sally asked, rubbing her wrist to ease some of the sting.

"Now, follow my lead and try not to get yourself killed." Sherlock started to walk away dramatically, only to be stopped by Greg's hand on his wrist pulling him back.

"You do not get to lead us into an escape route past someone with henchmen and guns because you think you're so smart and brave. Sally is one of my team and I look out for my team and I will not let her get hurt so you can show off. Now tell us your bloody plan, then you can walk away." Greg took a deep breath, letting it out slow as him and Sherlock stayed locked in a staring match. Slowly, as if unsure, Sherlock slipped his wrist out of Greg's grip, but only far enough to secure Greg's hand in his. He pulls their interlocked hands up without breaking eye contact, then presses the back of Greg's hand to his chest. The DI feels Sherlock's pulse pounding rapidly against his skin.

"Do you trust me?" Sherlock asks, guarded. There's a beat of silence.

 "With my life," Greg finally responds, having found what he was looking for in Sherlock's eyes.

"Then follow my lead." Sherlock lets go of his hand and, with a dramatic turn, he sprints up the stairs. His faithful DI and blogger follow him with no hesitation. After mentally preparing herself for the worst, Sally does as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr @semoka to request fics!! I ship everything so you can't go wrong ;)
> 
> Comments keep me motivated!

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @semoka to request fics!! I ship everything so you can't go wrong ;)
> 
> Comments keep me motivated!


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